To Be Equal
By Twin Kats

Loki felt weak as he struggled to hold on. His chest throbbed and his eyes stung as he stared up, hopeful, into Odin's face. Odin who had taken in a runt of a Jotun; the abandoned offspring of Laufey, surely Odin understood everything? Surely he knew why Loki had to do all this?

Surely this…everything hadn't been all for naught?

"I could have done it, Father! I could have done it! For you! For all of us!" he shouted, hopeful, his gaze pleading for his father-figure to understand. Please understand!

The words Loki wanted so hard to say, wanted Odin so hard to understand, were brushed aside as the Allfather just stared down at him.

"No, Loki," Odin rumbled and Loki felt his world crumble as he locked eyes with the Allfather.

Loki's fingers went lax, his grip slipped, his vision swam with unshed tears. A bitter smile curled his lips as he fell. Thor's yelling was distant to his ears. All he could think, all he could feel, all he could see was Odin's face.

Odin's eyes.

Odin's voice.

No, Loki.

He was just a monster hidden behind a mask of Asgardian flesh. A Frost Giant runt, unwanted and unloved. A failure, a miscreant. Not a Prince. Not an equal. A broken tool.

Loki, the Trickster. Loki, the Liesmith. Loki, the Shapeshifter…the Frost Giant. He was Odinson…no, Laufeyson. Murderer of his own father (or was it mother? He could never quite remember), his own flesh and blood….

'Loki, the Monster,' he thought. 'How…fitting…an end.'

Darkness claimed his vision.

Traveling with the Bifrost is not quite instantaneous, nor is it senseless. There are lights and sounds and touches and smells and tastes that one gets as they traverse the paths of Yggdrasil. To be truthful the travel is quite daunting, and for one who has never traveled with the Bifrost, it is actually disorienting.

It had taken the Asgardians many, many years before they came to use the Bifrost without any apparent disorienting affects.

Traveling along the secret paths, the hidden spiderways of Yggdrasil is vastly different than travel with the Bifrost. There is no light, no sound, no smell, no touch, no taste. Just emptiness, timelessness, endlessness; it was more daunting than anything Loki had before seen, these forgotten darkened roads.

The god of mischief, purveyor of chaos, had felt a…kinship with these less tread, lesser known pathways. When he had first uncovered them, lifted off the dust so to speak, Loki had been awed and terrified. They were so, so different than the roads of the Bifrost. He nearly got lost the first few times he'd taken these secret routes.

But the feel of them, for despite the fact that these pathways were senseless there was a feel to them, was simply amazing. Loki could stretch out his pours of magic and feel the endless cosmos through these hidden spiderways. They interconnected like a web, and he could see the timeless paths to every which direction.

It had taken the boy, now a man, many, many years of traversing the paths but Loki had eventually become intimately familiar with their sliding ways, their infinite routes and darkened corridors. He learned from them, learned to sneak and to hide himself from Heimdall's gaze thanks to them. He'd become so intimately familiar with them in fact that he could travel along them, navigate them, with but a thought, sometimes less than that even.

It was probably due to his infinite familiarity with these secret paths, these hidden spiderways, these darkened roads that had enabled Loki to survive when by all rights he should have rightfully perished in the destruction of the Rainbow Bridge and the Bifrost. His magic sought out, without his permission, and tugged him subconsciously into these secret paths. He fell aimlessly down them, unbidden, unknowing, until the light burst into his eyes and his chest was knocked against flailing feet into a realm of chaos and war.

Loki was the God of Mischief, the Trickster, a purveyor and supporter of the element of Chaos. To be shunted quite forcefully out of the hidden spiderways and into a realm of light and danger did not startle nor unsettle him. To have his ribs knocked against tripping feat, here laughter of battle and cackles of madness, did not lend him to panic. In fact Loki took his new position in stride quite easily.

His gaze swept the room from the floor, took stock of the chaos around him, and then he acted. First by far was to drag the mortal back from the spiderways lest he be lost among them to perish, or land in a realm unsuited for his being. He reached out with his magic, his tricks and his trade, and tugged the man back by the spirit, sealing the pathway closed. His fingers wrapped around the ankle of the flesh and anchored the mortal body back into this realm.

Bedraggled and confused the mortal fell to the ground and not into the pathways and Loki nodded to himself, satisfied.

Then the God stood upon his own two feet, pushing into the back of his mind the remnants of the pain in his chest. He tried not to think of earlier, when the weight of Mjolnir was settled on his chest, nor of the broken ribs he undoubtedly had from when he picked the fight with Thor. In fact Loki was doing his damndest not to think of Thor or Odin or what had happened period. He wanted no thought of the Frost Giants, his attempted genocide, his rage, or his heritage to enter his mind at this time.

All Loki wanted was to revel in that which he reveled in: Chaos. Considering he was thrust from the passageways into a realm currently filled to the brim with a bit of Chaos, and considering how shitty these last few days had been for him, Loki felt he deserved a chance to unwind. He was not thinking of why he should unwind, he was not going down that darker path. Not now, not here, not when chaos was leaving its mark.

With a laugh and a grin the God of Mischief leapt into the foray of battle. He twirled expertly through the jet of spells, shifted his being minutely as he cast his own right back. His hands remained stayed from the set of knives constantly hidden on his person. The last thing he wanted to do was cause death at this time. No…he wanted to revel in the flows of a more 'innocent' chaos.

A childish delight.

At least he had wished to remain so until his cape caught aflame. With a narrow eyed glare the fires put out and his gaze turned towards a blonde aristocrat and Loki snarled. He ignored everything else, marched right up to the blonde, and punched him solely across his jaw. Duplicates quickly and viciously incapacitated the allies of this arrogant fool.

The blond man went down like a sack of potatoes. Loki continued to sneer at the unconscious form as he rubbed his aching fist. His duplicates vanished in a wave of greenish gold light as the remaining, free mortals cautiously made their way towards him.

"Are you…alright, mate?" the one who had tripped over Loki's entrance asked near hesitantly, a look of tired laughter in his eyes. Loki could hear slightly shocked and strangled gasps from a few of the people around him.

"His jaw was…stronger than I expected, for a mortal," Loki muttered petulantly, his eyes narrowed. He scanned the room lightly and then calmly stepped his way up the steps. He ignored the voices cry out to him to wait, and deftly dodged any spells cast in his direction although many of them just fizzled out near his person.

Loki's senses, his magic, were screaming to him. The strands were calling and tugging him out of this room. Someone, or something, needed him. There was some form or agent of Chaos present, here, somewhere. Loki could taste them, almost. Chaos and Death—sweet and strong and steadfast and magical with just the barest hints of frost.

Almost like himself, in a way. Like called to like more often than not, Loki knew. So he marched, straight back with narrowed eyes, out of the room. He followed the tugging strands thought doors and down a hallway until—

"Kill me now, Dumbledore….if death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy…."

Loki shifted to the shadows, eyeing the scene before him. A boy on the ground, his eyes an unnatural red with a hidden shade behind them; green, Loki thought. They were supposed to be green. So green, like his own gaze, haunted and tormented…

An older man that tasted of decay touched Loki's senses. He stepped away from the decrepit and weak figure with a bitter sneer. Too much righteousness with too much oil surrounded that one. The last figure, near collapsed, tasted of serpent and rage and brokenness of insanity. Loki kept himself as far away from that one's gaze.

Insanity did not bode well for Chaos, it never did.

Carefully Loki knelt down beside the boy who spoke in sibilant hisses, the one that tasted of chaos and death. Gently he eased his own magic out, tested the strength, the resolve, to find why the eyes seemed so strange, so wrong. Loki reared back with a hiss of rage.

Possession. This child's will was bound, not to his own mind but to that of another! With a snarl and but a thought Loki snuck his way beneath the oppressing presence and down to the child hidden away. He gave the boy a bolster of strength, support and aide, and the oppressing mind retreated with a roar of rage. Green eyes cleared and cloudily looked up into equally green eyes.

Like face stared into like face as Loki shifted the boy into a more comfortable position in his lap. Something else of this child of chaos and death was familiar to the Asgard Prince, although the Liesmith could not list what it was. He figured it had something to do with the lingering taste of frost but he could not be sure. Not now, not without a more in-depth reading.

Now was certainly not the time for such a thing anyway.

Subconsciously Loki carded his fingers through the child's hair, blotting out all sound around him as like face stared into like face. Neither noticed as the snake-one left and the decrepit-one came closer, but Loki did hear him speak, did hear him ask his name. Loki figured he would bid the foul tasting one that boon, if only due to the feeling of safety he got from the child, all aimed towards the old goat.

"Loki," Loki said simply, and helped the child of chaos and death stand. Calmly he placed a kiss to the child's fingers and murmured a gentle, "'Till we meet again," and then vanished from their sight.

He was curious.

Loki followed the decrepit-one and the child of death and chaos as they left the monochromatic building that he learned was called the 'Ministry of Magic' which made his eyebrows raise in slight surprise. None of the lessons he had with his Father and Brother had ever suggested that Midgard had a functioning society of magic!

Perhaps, Loki mused, they on Asgard had stayed their hands from the other realms for far too long, if things had changed so drastically upon the world that used to worship them as the Gods they are. His lips curled slightly as he settled back against the wall by a red and gold plumed bird.

Loki did not want to ponder about Asgard, not now. No…he was more interested in the little chaos and death mortal, than anything. He didn't want to think or remember Asgard or its peoples.

Loki just wanted to forget; to lose himself in his own nature.

So Loki did.

His eyes roamed the office with faint interest as he listened to the argument beginning to brew between the child of chaos and death and the old decrepit-one. As he listened Loki felt rage bubble up beneath his skin, his eyes began to narrow and his teeth began to bear in a slight snarl, but Loki held himself in check.

"On the contrary…the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength," was uttered. Loki could feel the rage in the little child of chaos and death begin to burn. His own blood nearly boiled with a cold intensity as his eyes began to glow.

Pain is not strength, Loki wanted to sneer. He wanted to reach out and grab the child and hold him close. Pain is not to be praised. Pain is debilitating, destructive. It builds until its unleashed in a torrential of power and it kills…oh how it kills!

"My greatest strength, is it?" the child questioned. "You haven't got a clue….You don't know…"

No, the decrepit-one, the one of oil and age and the stink of maggots did not know true pain, did not know what it felt like to have ones world torn asunder. Loki could see it in his impossibly blue eyes, eyes like Odin, eyes like Thor. The green gaze of the child knew pain, and he knew it well. It was an old friend…a dangerous beast, but a friend.

Like Loki.

And still, Loki saw and heard, the old one continued! He persisted, he pushed! Could he not see the beast he could awaken if he pushed too much? Could he not see the terrors that could be unleashed because of pain? That fool.

"What don't I know?" he asked.

"I don't want to talk about how I feel, all right?" the child replied and Loki found himself pleading silently, leaning forward just slightly, begging that the old man leave sleeping dogs lie. Don't push, he wanted to say, don't push or you'll unleash a terror not seen upon this world!

He was not heeded.

"Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human—" the decrepit-one was saying and Loki almost jolted at the roar of rage that came from the child. He near flinched back, the rage licking at his Jotun blood, drawing forth the nature he tried so hard to suppress. It brought a fit of rage from within Loki as well, and all he could see was Odin staring down, like this old man, uncaring of the emotions and feelings he inflicted in the so-frail not Asgardian body….

"THEN—I—DON'T—WANT—TO—BE—HUMAN!" It was a tantrum, one Loki could connect with immediately. Talks between 'father' and 'son' broke down and the child just raged. Silently, internally, Loki raged with him as he all the while bottled up and blocked out the past. He forced himself to see past the similarities, to ignore them.

This was not Asgard, this was not the Vault, this was not Odin and Loki…this was an old mortal man and a young child that was so much like him…Loki tore his mind from his thoughts the minute he felt frost lick at his fingers. He hissed softly and tugged his nature back.

He didn't notice the frost gathering at the child's feet, or the frost that coated the items the child tossed and destroyed in rage. A rage that shimmered bright, but like any child throwing their first tantrum, their first real tantrum at any rate (not a giant bloody life turning upheaval tantrum that ended in death of a few beings like Loki's) the rage simmered down back to a light boil and the fight left the blood. Instead the urge to flee came across.

It was strong enough that Loki near teleported out of the room, but he froze in favor of pondering this new mystery. He was not an empath by any stretch of the imagination, so what connected him so thoroughly to this mere mortal boy? It bore thinking upon.

So with one ear Loki listened to the tales that began to spin (and idly he wondered just who this 'Black' was and when they died, surely not at that little bit of Chaos he witnessed!) whilst his mind elsewise was occupied with this growing connection to the boy. How could a mortal child (and a part of him clamored at the thought, exclaiming that this boy was no mere mortal) have bewitched and ensnared him so? How could this mortal child call upon that which Loki had not even known existed until recently?

It was a befuddling predicament, one that Loki was not at all pleased with and yet in many ways Loki was mighty pleased all the same. Perhaps this child and him could heal and bring chaos amongst the nine realms and along the tides of Midgard. Maybe even seek out the mortal woman that entangled Thor and changed his brother so much that he held compassion for Jotunheim?

Compassion for monsters? Loki wanted to scoff and bitterly question as to when Thor had taken up his area of expertise. There is no way that Thor could ever hold compassion for a monster, not even for Loki. To those thoughts the little God grit his teeth and banished them back. He had told himself he would not think on those painful memories. He would not reminisce, he would not! He would lose himself in his nature and the chaos that bled freely in this area.

He would wreak havoc and mischief upon all of Midgard, and then maybe slip away to one of the other realms like Vanaheim and cause some chaos there as well! Yes, that sounded like a wonderful idea! He would ignore the past and look forward to a bright future of chaos and mischief! He would not look at the similarities of this old mortal man and his claiming of fear that the connection between the child and the insane-one could be utilized against them, that the child could be forced against his will, that he was fearful for the child, and so kept him in ignorance.

Like Odin did Loki.

Loki frowned lightly as the emotions rolling off the child, the rage and a hatred and a sorrow, fluctuated back and forth. He would scream out angrily, choke back a sob, and Loki felt it all mimicked back within himself, somehow. His gut twisted at the thoughts, and yet he could find no connection there. He felt it but could not see a one! There was more at work here, more deep and hidden going on, Loki felt.

And then the old one began to speak more and more, about caring too much but Loki could see not even the child believed the old man then. No, no this child had been hurt too deeply, and it was through the decrepit-one's doing, and the decrepit-one knew…it was an anvil on a pile of even more anvils, ready to topple at a moments notice.

Loki didn't bother silently pleading anymore. He just shook his head, knowing the direction all this would take. The bitterness stewing inside the child would grow and grow unless someone intervened. Loki would not, not now, and not here. But later, oh yes, he grinned. Later Loki could find the child and he would be there. He would show the mortal an outlet for the bitterness. He would help the child.

And then maybe he could learn what this damnable connection between them meant.

Without a glance to the room Loki stood from his perch. He didn't even glance at the bird who was staring at him, instead he just left. He had plans to plot, ideas to lie, and mysteries to solve.

Loki'd find his little chaos and death later, after the mortal unleashed his rage and anger upon the old man and his office one last time.

Summary: Loki fell, and to everyone on Asgard, seemed lost. On Midgard, 1996, a certain God of Mischief finds himself trapped with his own demons, and curious to spite himself. Who was this boy that tasted lightly of frost? Loki needed to know. / HPThor crossover / HarryLoki

There is a plot, and a plan. I'm running through the random thought that the Bifrost travels not just through space but space/time, and that Loki's secret pathways are much the same. Until now Loki hasn't actually traversed 'time' but just 'space'.

I also have quite a lot of thoughts about Loki and the end of the Thor movie. Anyone notice the tears in his eyes as he fights Thor there? Anyone else thought that Loki wasn't attempting to kill his brother, but to motivate his brother enough to kill him? That Loki wanted to end all the 'monsters' all of the Jotuns, even himself?

Because Loki, you have to realize in the movieverse, was raised with the knowledge that a Frost Giant was a monster. All Asgard children were raised with the thoughts of Frost Giants being the bogeymen that hide under your bed or something akin to that. Loki even mentions it, how he's 'one of the monsters parents tell their kids about at night' or something like that. When you raise a kid with the thoughts of 'these people are BAD' and that kid finds out he's actually one of those people…of those people everyone where he lives fears, how do you think the kids gonna react?

Very. Fucking. Poorly.

Odin really fucked up by not quelling the 'Frost Giants' are monsters things, and by raising his own children with the same ideology. Of course Loki's going to fucking flip after that reveal!

So this story is mostly going to focus on Loki struggling with himself, believing himself to be a monster (and not just a mother of monsters, but a true fucking monster) because that was how he was raised. He's unsure and hurting and lonely and he's trying to deal with all this pain in the best way he can. His behavior is self destructive insofar that he's actually not dealing with the problems. He's outright ignoring them.

He's trying to forget they happened.

Meanwhile he meets these 'mortal's' like Harry and others, and suddenly he's got his past slapped in his face with how Harry is treated, how Harry reacts to things. Harry is like a mini-Loki to Loki (and really, can't you see the parallels? And I don't mean just looks) and Loki would more than likely run away from Harry accept…something about Harry draws him in.

He's curious to spite himself.

And Harry might just help Loki heal, a little bit. There'll be romance (but it'll be kind of slow) there'll be sex (that's not so slow, but then hey, Loki's pretty promiscuous anyway, really) and there'll be struggles.

But it'll be fun, over all.

And oh, would you look at that? This is the first Thor!Movie/Harry Potter crossover. Yes, yes it is. And yes I was fucking pissed off to not find HP in the list, and yet look! There's goddamned Twilight. That was wrong on so many levels. So here's my correction.

(fuck twilight)

Unbeta'd, but hey, beta'd version soon!